All is Fair in Love and War
by missylynn99
Summary: With most of the wizarding population dead or infertile, a marriage law has been enacted. Draco Malfoy has decided that if he can't have a pureblood, his wife will be the best dirty-blooded witch of his age. A Malfoy always gets what he wants, even if it means playing around the rules. All is fair in love and war; Hermione Granger doesn't stand a chance.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello, my lovely readers! Sorry for all of the Hiatus, but I've been extremely stressed with my responsibilities, and have only started writing again as a relief from the death of my close friend, Callie. (Always wear your seatbelt _properly_ , don't drive high, and you can wait to smoke.) I apologize for errors in advance, but this is a NaNoWriMo project, and my goal is 20-30 thousand words. Let's see how far I make it! **

The peaceful scenery had no effect on the tense atmosphere of the train. Various couples huddled against each other, whispering worries and consolations in anxious tones. The war was officially over, but it's damage was catastrophic and far reaching; more than twenty-five percent of the wizard population had either been killed or rendered incapable of having children. For the first time in centuries, squib births were expected to out number magical ones amongst pureblood couples. Something had to be done to reverse this crisis.

The new Minister of Magic, Kingsy Shacklebolt, had been forced to call upon an ancient and powerful magic, wrought by Merlin himself. It was a spell that could determine a couple's magical compatability. Witches and wizards were now obligated to search for a partner with a compatibility rate of 80% or higher. It instantly ruled out pureblood matches, and those approved were required to produce at least two magical offspring. If a pair didn't pass, they were obligated to break up until the obligatory two children were raised with a suitable partner. Not that it really mattered, though. The person who was most compatible with your magic was supposed to be your soulmate.

That was the reason for the somber, solemn mood. Everyone was panicking at the mere thought of ending their relationships that have endured the war. Many had already been forcibly cut short already.

Hermione couldn't stand to look beside her, and could only stare at the ever tranquil landscape, mocking the nettles in her heart. On one side, Ginny and Harry sat all but intertwined, one an extension of the other. They had been tested and tried already; they had received their 98% compatibility rate.

They were the reason she couldn't look to her other side for comfort. Ron perched as rigid as a board on the edge of his seat. Electric tension flirted between them, charging the air with its sparks. Their hands were inches apart, but neither one could break the ice. She couldn't be certain what was running through his head, but she was sure it was the same thought wrecking havoc on her heart. They had been waiting three weeks for the results of their test. Neville and Luna waited one week. Harry and Ginny waited two days.

Icy terror paralyzed her at the logical conclusion; she was not compatible with Ron, and she would have to meet someone new. Of the people left that she knew, it wasn't possible for one of them to be her soulmate.

The whistle blew. It was finally time to change into school robes. She seized the opportunity to escape, no matter how temporarily. However, while exiting the dressing cart, she ran directly into a warm, muscular chest. His arms instinctively steadied her, pulling her deeper into his embrace.

He smelled like fine old books, sweet mint, and a garden after a rainstorm. His robes were a soft silk, lined with emerald green velvet. _Wait, **green** velvet?_ _"_ Look who I have here." He chuckled throatily in her ear, warm breath tickling her skin. "Hello, Granger.

Her eyes darted upward, only to find messy platinum blond hair, a crooked smile, and a molten silver gaze. "Hello, Malfoy." Hermione murmured in return. _Great_ , she thought with sarcasm. _Just the person I wanted to see._

 _"_ It's just Draco." He teased, unwrapping his arms, but still hovering way too close.

"I've got to go." She replied abruptly, attempting to duck around him. Malfoy just rolled his eyes and readjusted.

"What's the hurry?" His eyes glinted with mischief. "Do you have to run back to Weasel already? It's not like you'll be together for much longer, no offense." His minor apology did sound sincere, but it was still like a slap in the face, driving salt deeper into her already raw wounds.

"Sod off, Malfoy." She growled, blinking back tears.

He raised his hands apologetically. "Sorry to hurt your feelings, princess, but you're the brightest witch of our age, and he's just scraping by. There was no way that you two would be a good fit. "

She didn't even respond. Instead, she slammed the door as she stormed out, choking back sobs. Despite her ordeal, she couldn't bring herself to seek comfort from her friends and sat in a nearly-empty Ravenclaw cart instead. Maybe it was because, deep in her heart, she could hear the truth of his words. The train arrived at Hogwarts shortly afterwards. If her friends found anything unusual or concerning about her sudden disappearance, they didn't say anything.

One of the most disturbing after effects of the war was on the carriages. Nothing about them had changed, per se. She had simply gained horrible new insight. Large skelatal horses, or thestrals, hauled each carriage to the front doors of the school. They were disturbing creatures, all blackened bones and leathery wings. Absentmindedly, she wondered how many students could see them now. For the longest time, she had thought the carriages had been enchanted to drive themselves. It was a rather rude shock to see what the invisible force pulling really was.

Nevertheless, she snagged a spot in the girl's carriage, while Ron rode with the boys. Lavender, Ginny, and Luna chatted excitedly about their upcoming weddings. She simply listened, only offering supportive smiles when needed.

* * *

Everyone at the Gryffindor table was engaged in a lively competition of "Pick the First-Year." Naturally, it involved examining the line of new students and attempting to pick which house they would be placed in. After playing for several years, it was almost too easy to judge, but there was the occasional surprise. Nothing was really meant by it, other than to pass the time to The headmistress' speech.

When the sorting was over, Professor McGonagall finally addressed the issue on everyone's mind.

"I know that much has happened in the past year, but Hogwart's mission will remain the same; to educate and prepare young people for adult life. With that being said, we do have several issues to work through. Many seventh-years last year either skipped school to fight, or learned next to nothing in the chaos. I feel that it is important to make sure our students are as prepared as they can be, so we are offering students a chance to repeat the year. Instead of residing in the house dormitories, these students will stay in an unused wing of the castle that has been converted for this purpose. Anyone who needs to retake a class in the lower years is more than welcome to get tutoring or repeat the necessary subject.

Finally, there is a major change occurring. A Marraige Law has been put into place. A spell will determine if a relationship is compatible, and all unmarried and fertile magical citizens must marry before age twenty. Each couple is expected to bear two children before age twenty-five, although exceptions will given to older matches. If you are not in your seventh year, I would not worry too much about it. However, we will offer the test to couples aged fifteen and above, if they choose. Now, I've talked enough, so dig in." McGonagall was not nearly as brief as Dumbledore, but thankfully, she could still get to the point.

With the speech's end, the food appeared on the plates. Hermione had long since given up on S.P.E.W. It just seemed that the house elves _enjoyed_ slaving away for no money. For a while, only Dobby would dare clean her room. The rest feared accidental freedom by lumpy socks/sweaters.

She glanced over at Ron again. He still was refusing to talk to her, as if their extended wait was her fault somehow. However, judging by his mouth stuffed full of food, it wouldn't be of much use to talk to him now, anyways.

Sighing, she reluctantly helped herself to a generous portion of food, and caught Malfoy ginning at her from across the hall.

* * *

It took exactly one more week before she for the answers she so desperately craved. It had been torture, not knowing. Her fellow Griffindors threw her pitying glances, while the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws just seemed vaguely sorry. The Slytherins, though, did something else entirely. They stared at her expectantly, with slight smiles playing on their features.

 _What do you want from me?_ She had wanted scream at them. it wasn't until Professor McGonagall came to break the news that she understood.

"I'm sorry." She had immediately put an arm around Hermione's shoulders. "Your rate was only twenty-five. Two purebloods would have a better chance. I'll tell him also, but you need to seriously consider how you move on from here." She gave her one last squeeze before leaving, presumably to tell Ron.

From across the common room, Malfoy smirked triumphantly, and everything slowly clicked into place. _No way in hell._ She thought viciously.

* * *

 **Yay! First chapter done, and not nearly as painful as expected. I'll see how often I can update, but I'm going to shoot for every few days. Please be sure to leave a review, telling me what you thought (as they boost my self-esteem and motivation.) Thanks for reading! :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Second chapter! I'd forgotten how much I loved writing, when I had a story I was motivated to pen. Thank you so much for all of the kind words, and a special thanks to the anon who pointed out I forgot to tag characters :) Enjoy the next chapter!**

Malfoy lazily approached her, victory shining in his stormy eyes.

"Granger, will you-" She stomped past him, in no mood to put up with his childish antics.

"Not now." She hissed over her shoulder, and began her hunt for Ron. "Ron? Ron!" She called, before a faint voice responded.

"Here." Harry beckoned from the boys' dormitory. He shuffled out, whispering quietly. "He's in here. McGonagall just told him. He's not taking it well."

Brushing past her longtime best friend, she slipped into the room. Ron sat at the foot of his bed, staring blankly ahead with glazed eyes. "Ron?" She asked timidly, before sitting beside him and resting her head on his shoulder.

Slowly but surly, he wrapped an arm around her waist and turned his gaze to her. "What do we do now?" He sighed heavily.

"Have the two kids, then get back together?" She responded hopefully, looking for some way out.

Ron laughed darkly and without humor. "There's a fidelity oath that goes with the ceremony. It's extremely painful to break, and we'll be waiting a minimum of twenty years for the kids to grow up." He paused to kiss her forehead, smiling sadly. "If you're still miserable then, we can try it, but you won't be. You'll have probably found the love of your life."

"I don't get it. I love _you_." She stuttered.

"Now you do, but the person you marry will already be fifty percent more compatible with you to start, and the marriage will bind your magic with his. Each year, you'll get a little more compatible, a little more in sync. It's how magical marriages have such low divorce rates, and that's just what they're counting on."

"Then our only option is to leave everything we have together behind." She choked out. "If we can, I still want to be friends. You're far too important to me to just forget."

She meant every word. Deep in her heart was an undying affection for Ron, forged and tempered in the fires of war. She couldn't understand how they weren't meant to be. Maybe she had confused attachment and devotion for love.

Ron nodded and stood up. "We can try, so long as you don't end up with one of my brothers, unless they're your last option. Mum's gonna encourage them, because she'll want you officially in the family, but I don't think I could stand seeing you with George, or Charlie, or heavens forbid, Percy."

At that, she had to crack a smile. "Fine, as long as you don't marry Lavander Brown. She's already gotten most of her wedding planned out, although she hasn't a clue who she's going to marry."

A little smile tugged at the corners of Ron's mouth. "I'll keep that in mind. Come on," he gently hauled her to her feet. "You need to go and rest. We'll make it through this. We always do."

With that, she returned to her bed, where she promptly started crying. Not the ugly, broken sobs that would be expect to come with the end of a long-term relationship, but the silent, fat tears one cries when utterly disappointed.

 _One night._ She promised herself. _Just one night to mourn and cry before moving on and starting over. I deserve that much, at least._

Gradually, the tears ran dry and Hermion sunk into a restless slumber.

* * *

Hauling herself out of bed in the morning was a great challenge; one that she was quite proud to accomplish. In fact, it was still fairly early. However, if it weren't or the incessant tapping on her window, it might have been a very different story.

Grudgingly, she opened the latch to allow two owls to stumble in, carrying a large bouquet of roses between them. The most striking thing about the creatures was that they both seemed to have some sort of albanism. The larger one, a barn owl, was dusted in soft tawny tones and flecked with a gold-grey. Around his neck was a golden collar, with "Altair" engraved into the metal. The other owl was a small snowy owl. She was almost pure white, with charcoal speckles along the tips of her wings. She also was wearing collar, only silver, with "Vega" engraved in that same calligraphic script.

Quicly, she relieved them of their burden. Untying the stings from their legs, she set the box with the flowers on her vanity. Inside, were about two dozen of the strangest roses she had ever seen. They were oddly metallic, looking as if they were straight from the smith.

Out of pure curiosity, she extended a finger to caress the petals. They were flexible and smooth, but with an unyielding firmness. As if they were made from living metal.

Carefully, she pulled the vase out of the box, so she could further inspect it. It glittered brilliantly, and with a jolt, she realized it must be diamond-plated. It was just translucent enough for her to peer inside. The stems of the flowers were a a steely grey, and the flowers themselves were a mix of colors. Silver, yellow and rose gold were by far the most prominent, but copper, brass, platinum, and dark titanium were scattered throughout the bouquet.

"They're amazing," she murmured, and could have swore that Altair and Vega hooted with pride. She then noticed a greenish-black note tied to the vase. Written in silver ink, it said, " _This must be a painful time, but look upon these and smile, for I am waiting for you._

 _"_ Mione! You're gonna miss breakfast if you don't hurry up. You've gotta keep going with your life..." Ginny stopped dead in her tracks as she caught sight of the bouquet. "Blimey Hermione! I didn't mean _that_ fast. Who gave these to you?"

"I don't know." She responded, still in awe. "Two owls dropped them off just a bit ago."

"Well, I can tell you they're from no one in my family." Ginny commented. "Not even Charlie makes enough taming dragons to afford these."

"What are these, exactly?"

"Roses grown from precious metals. They were only created just after the war ended, but no one really knows who made them. All I know is that they can only be purchased from a big florist company in France, and that the flowers alone in that bouquet run about four hundred and eighty gallons. That's not including the diamond plated vase, but they might have thrown it in for spending so much money."

"All of that for _roses_?" Hermione gasped in disbelief. "They'll be dead in a week."

This time, Ginny smiled broadly. "Not true. As long as you change the water once a month, they'll live indefinitely. It's been all over Witch's Weekly. If taken care of properly, they'll never die. If you can prove that they did die without reason, the company will pay you back in full and send you double the flowers. They haven't had to reimburse a single knut so far." Ginny nudged her in the ribs. "Someone must really like you! Come on, we need to go eat, then make a plan to figure out your secret admirer."

* * *

"You need to think of something!" Ginny groaned in exasperation. "Initials? A crest? Any type of hint at all? "

"I've told you," she replied stubbornly. "The owls that delivered it were albino barn and snowy owls named Altair and Vega. They flew away shortly before you arrived, and I didn't see where they went. The note only said to look at the roses and smile through my pain, because he's waiting for me."

"Ugh," Ginny rolled her eyes. "Who could have known the results of your test, so that they could send you flowers?"

"Anyone. Professor McGonagall told me in the common room, so anyone could have heard and told. I know I've heard everyone whispering about how shocked they are that Ron and I aren't compatible." She sniffed a little. She was _not_ going to start crying again.

"Tell me more about the note." Ginny pressed. "There has to be something that we're not seeing. He probably wouldn't have sent it without a hint to figure out his identity."

"The paper was dark green, and a very heavy, quality card stock. It had a matte finish, and the ink was metallic silver. It looked handwritten, but in the same handwriting as on the collars. It was tied around the vase with a silver ribbon." Hermione obliged, repeating everything she remembered about the note.

"Green and silver!" Ginny exclaimed. "Bloody hell, 'Mione, it's from a slytherin!" She shuttered, appalled by her own discovery. "It all makes sense now. The extravagant roses, the diamond vase, the rare owls. Even the names of the owls make sense! Altair and Vega are stars of the Summer Triangle in astronomy. The myth goes that they once belonged to the constellation Gemini, but once they were married, they were so in love that they neglected their work. The gods grew angry, and ripped them apart, placing them on either sides of the sky. They are now known as the star-crossed lovers who are only allowed to meet once a year, when they are closest to each other in the sky."

"That was deep, Gin." She commented. "How'd you know that?"

"Astrology was my favorite class as a third year. " Ginny sighed dreamily. "It may have been because we had a really hot substitute for most of the year, but it was a good class."

"Either way though, it doesn't matter." Hermione resolved herself. "I'm not marrying a slytherin. What do they even want with me, anyways?"

Ginny shot Hermione a look that made her seriously question her intelligence. "Lots of things, Hermione. One, you are a member of the 'golden trio'. Many purebloods, especially the slytherins, are in disgrace. By marrying you, they could easily climb back up the social ladder. They could use your influence to get their loved ones out of Azkaban. Hell, it could be someone like Goyle who wants you simply because you're pretty."

"I'm not marrying a slytherin." She repeated.

"Don't be so close-minded." Ginny rolled her eyes. "Not all of them are evil trolls, although many of them are. I hear Blasie Zabini and Theodore Nott aren't too bad. Think of the benefits! Many of them still have their money and assets, and houses so large, you'd hardly have to see them." Ginny was laughing by the end, trying to cheer her up.

She would admit, Ginny's humor did lighten her mood, even just a little bit. "I'd still rather not. Do you have any idea of who hasn't been matched yet? Gryffindors, preferably." Hermione asked.

"The only ones I can think of are Colin Creevy and Cormac Mclaggen." She admitted sheepishly.

Groaning, Hermione flopped back on the grass, and stared up at the tree they were sitting under. "Maybe I'll just refuse to marry anyone in the country, and hope that Viktor is still single. "

At that, Ginny visibly stiffened. "Why did you break up with him anyways?"

"I thought I liked Ron more." She responded sadly. "Given our current situation, it was a stupid move."

"A very stupid move." Ginny agreed. "Why don't you take a few weeks to readjust, mourn a little more, and find someone you'd like to give a chance?"

* * *

The next week passed like molasses dripping from a tree: very, very slowly. She blamed it on the fact that Malfoy was her every class, and the gifts from her slytherin admirer were increasing with an alarming frequency.

The first day, she almost became food for the venomous tentacula. In an attempt to avoid the pointy-faced ferret, she had ducked behind what she thought was a harmless bush. That was, until a thorny vine snared itself along her bare arms, having not put on gloves yet. Thankfully, Neville saw her caught in its trap, and removed her from its grasp without a word to Professor Sprout.

The next morning, Altair and Vega came bearing another package, wrapped in a beautiful emerald and silver damask paper. Carefully, she unwrapped it, after straining to see where the owls disappeared to. Much to her dismay, the pair seemed to head for the owlry tower. It was someone in the school.

The box itself contained an assortment of bath salts, scented oils, several flavors of tea, and something that made her stop and stare: a first edition, autographed, full-color copy of _Howarts, A History_ in _mint condition._

The note attached to this one simply read " _Relax_."

A couple days later, they were practicing freezing charms in class. Malfoy had been staring at her with that ever-present, knowing smirk since the class had started. Distracted by her nerves and annoyance, she accidentally hit a nearby mirror, instead of her target. Consequently, the spell rebounded and hit her full force. She spent the rest of the day shivering and tinged blue, despite several pepper-up potions.

That night, the gift was waiting for her on her bed. It was a heavy cashmere cloak in a dove grey, trimmed with some sort of dark, soft fur. She had heavy suspicions that it was either mink or chinchilla. " _For when you get cold."_

The next day, Malfoy decided to sit right behind her in potions. He seemed to use it as an excuse to walk past her, up to the shelves, to grab or return tools, and to fetch more ingredients. The fluttering of his cloak and the ghost of his hand beside her was almost enough to drive her mad. Even more infuriating was his devious smirk. She longed to wipe it off of his face.

The next gift was a set of 1,200 thread count bamboo fiber sheets. Their sateen weave seemed to run like liquid against her skin and sleeping on them felt like laying on the softest of clouds. " _Rest."_

As the week progressed, her morbid curiousity and disturbance grew. How could he possibly know exactly what she needed and when? Other offerings included, but were not limited to, an enormous box of Swiss chocolates (" _Indulge_ "), a designer dress, which was rather uncannily her size (" _Have fun_ "), and a telescope (" _Shoot for the stars"_.)

Amongst all of this, she was not immune to Ginny's teasing. "Gosh 'Mione. If this doesn't work out for you, _I_ might just have to marry him." She had commented, after Hermione had received the owls themselves. " _They are yours. Use them to speak to me, if you wish."_ They had each came bearing a gilded cage.

 _"_ What would I even say to him?" Hermione fretted. "What if I don't even like him?"

"Go an think on it." Ginny encouraged. "If not, I've got a date lined up for you with "Anthony Goldstein in Hogsmede next weekend." She beamed in satisfaction.

"That wouldn't be too bad, I suppose." She responded stiffly. "He was from DA, right?"

"That's right. Now, go take a walk or something, and think about it."

"You sure are advocating for my love life." Hermione commented, a little amused.

"I just want to see you happy, 'Mione."

With a hug, she left Ginny to ponder her options. On her way to the lake, she was finally cornered. "Malfoy! Leave me alone already. Don't pretend like I don't know what you've been trying to do. I'm in no mood to hear you ridicule me about my failed relationship. I was wrong for once, okay! Just let me suffer in peace." She growled at the quickly approaching blonde.

"Bullocks." He rolled his eyes when he finally reached her. "At the risk of being hit, I've been trying to ask you something." Awkwardly, he knelt onto one knee. " Gra-... Er, Hermione." Malfoy cleared his throat. "Marry me."

* * *

 **Yes! Another chapter down. I know it's a little heavy in the beginning, but I needed to get it out of the way. I hope you guys enjoyed it, and thanks for reading! Let me know what you thought. :)**


	3. Chapter 3

**Back** **again! I know I'm rather behind on my NaNoWriMo goal, but the past few weeks have been crazy. Special thanks to Frogster, for the helpful notes! I've been pretty pressed for time, and haven't done the best job of editing before I post, and really appreciate it. I plan to fix the mistakes I've noticed when I get a bit more time, which will more than likely be in December. Here's the next chapter, enjoy!**

All Hermione could do was stare at him in utter disbelief. "You're joking, right? " She finally spit out.

"Actually, no." Much to her suprise, he sounded rather serious, bowing his head in search of something. "I've already got a ring, but it's a family heirloom with plenty of emeralds, and I didn't know how you'd feel about that. I could have them swapped for rubies or garnets, if you like."

 _Thump!_ She smacked the back of his head. "Who are you, and what have you done with Malfoy?"

"I knew that was coming." He muttered darkly, gingerly rubbing the back of his head, before staightening and standing. "I don't have a clue as to what your talking about."

"Then who drugged you?" She rolled her eyes. "Someone must have you under the influence of amorentia, or the imperius."

"I assure you, I still have all of my facilities."

"Then what is it?" Hermione bordered on hysteria. "A bet? A dare?"

"I've already told you; I want you to marry me." Malfoy took a step closer, invading her personal space. He unabashedly unleashed the full, devastating effects of his strangely pleading stare.

"Marry you?" She shoved him back, ignoring the racing pulse beneath her hands, resting on his chest, before crossing her arms."You're insane. You tormented me for most of my school years and the first thing you say to me is a proposal."

For a moment, his mouth gaped and closed like a fish, accompanied by a look that implied ' _Yo_ _u're joking, right?'_

 _"_ I've saved your life on more than one occasion." He countered.

She fell silent for moment, remembering what he spoke of all too well. "Fair point, but it doesn't change the fact that you were a complete and utter prat during school. You constantly harassed me and my friends."

"It goes both ways." He rolled his eyes. "Potter rejected my friendship first. I was taught to be proud, so naturally, this unforgivable offense created our rivalry. " Draco explained with a touch of amusement, as if he were laughing at himself.

"Sure, I've been a prat, but most of it was how I was raised to be. I usually just tried to get you in trouble, or expelled, something you did plenty welll with on your own. Besides, I knew it would never work. Even in first year, you three were already the Golden Trio. Potter didn't even have to worry about expulsion after he almost killed me." He paused to clear his throat, obviously trying to forget that particular memory.

"Which brings me to my last point; hurting your feelings was often just collateral damage in the scheme to get back at Potter. Very rarely did I target you alone, and I dare say, your lover was often far nastier to you than I ever was." Malfoy looked at her expectantly, as if waiting for an answer.

"Doesn't change the fact that you'be been a nasty person for almost the entire time that I've known you. Also, isn't Auntie Bella just rolling in her grave at the mere thought of you having this conversation with me? Why do you even want to marry me anyways?"

"For starters," he drawled. "My previous engagement has been ended by default, and I am in need of a fiancé. Secondly, you're very intelligent, a quality both admired and stroven for in the Malfoy family. Finally, my connections in the wizarding world are all but nonexistent, since the war has ended. You would be a great asset in remedying that." Malfoy replied promptly, as if he had been rehearsing his answer for days.

"And why should I marry you?" She jeered. "It seems like you have a lot more to gain from this than I do."

In a flash, he was in her space again, murmuring in her ear, "Oh, Hermione, my dear, _that_ is where you are wrong."

She turned her back and began to stride purposefully away from him, ignoring his calls behind her back. Much to her displeasure, it sounded like he was following her.

"One of your main goals is to continue school, right? Well, according to the law, you'd have to start having kids before you could even get halfway through any university classes. If you married any other person, you would need to take off a minimum of three years to bear and care for them, but I could hire you a nanny. You could still be apart of their lives, but someone else could care for them while you were in class, and while you needed to study. In fact, you would be so financially secure, tuition wouldn't even be a problem."

She he snuck a peak over her shoulder. Malfoy was only a few feet behind her. Crap. She started jogging, hoping that the physical activity would deter him from speaking to her further.

"I've recently purchased a new estate, even larger than the previous Malfoy Mannor. The library is larger than the entirety of Gryffindor Tower, and stocked with more books than even you could read in three lifetimes. With my resources, you could find and restore your parents' memories. You could have anything you've ever wanted, luxuries that you've never even dreamed of. All you have to do is say yes, and consider it done."

He had no trouble keeping up with her, and instead, jogged ahead to wait in front of the doors.

"How are you so calm about this? " She demanded. "This goes against everything you've ever known!"

"Believe it or not, having You-Know-Who as a house guest, and watching him torture hundreds of people didn't exactly give me a warm fuzzy feeling. It was bloody terrifying. Everyone bleeds the same scarlet red. Even so, what I think no longer matters. Here in a few years, there will be no more pureblood children. In fifty years, there may not be any more pureblood couples." For the first time, anger seeped into his voice, but Mafoy quickly composed his features into a carefully calm mask.

"What about love? Wouldn't you rather have someone you didn't spend almost seven years hating?" She asked desperately. The way he was looking at her now was akin to a hunter sizing up a buck that would become his prey.

Malfoy laughed. "I have never hated you. Your blood status, maybe, but not you personally. Besides, I have never had any illusions about marrying for love. Even from a young age, I knew I was to be wed to one of the Greengrass sisters. I hoped and prayed it would be Astoria, but was sure it would be Daphne. I have a choice now, and I want the best. No one else is my equal, intellectually or otherwise. Pureblood and elitist-half-blood women are taught to be quiet, to respectfully submit to their husbands. You, though. You have fire; you have spirit, and you should be my wife." His mouth curled into a mockery of a smile.

"But I want to marry for love." She stubbornly insisted, tempted to slap him again.

"You've just about lost that chance, flushed down the drain by Weasel's bad genetics and lack of talent. You've got less than two years to look again."

"I won't marry someone I don't love. " She huffed, and pushed through the doors.

"I guess I have no choice but to convince you to love me." Malfoy drawled. She could almost hear him smirking.

"Fat chance." She growled under her breath and fled to her dormitory.

Once safely locked inside, Hermione began to pace the room. "Stupid, arrogant git!" She growled. "Bullies me for seven years, then creepily stares at me for a few weeks, then proposes! Who does that?" She flopped onto her bed and buried her face in her hands. "Why couldn't it have been Ron? Sure, we weren't perfect, but things would have been so much easier."

A soft weight landed on her chest, and alerted her to Vega, currently nuzzling her face into Hermione's neck.

She sat up and the owl shifted to her lap. "Hey girl, could you take a messsage to Ginny?"

Vega hooted in affirmation and fluttered to her desk. Grabbing a piece of parchment, she quickly penned a note. " _I'm heading over to the tower tonight."_

Despite having plans to marry next June, Ginny still stayed in the Gryffindor Tower most nights, and unlike Ron or Harry, would be calm about the whole situation. They would both blow a gasket if they knew about Malfoy wanting her hand in holy matrimony. She still hadn't even told them about her Slytherin admirer and her subsequently acquired pets.

Altair was still on his perch, staring with his hypnotic, golden eyes. "Come here." Hermione cooed, and Altair obliged. On another scrape of parchment, she wrote, " _Tell me about yourself."_ She wasn't concerned about his identity. She could now rule out Malfoy, as he had presented himself (no matter how rudely), as well as Theodore Nott, who was recently been engaged to a nice Hufflepuff girl. For the most part though, she tried not to think of the possible candidates. Now that she had decided to get to know the him, she wanted to do so without previous biases, although Ginny was convinced it was Blaise. Rumor had it that he was a bit of a womanizer, but a hopeless romantic and sweet at heart.

As Altair disappeared from sight, she finally made her mad-dash to Gryffindor common room.

* * *

"You've got to be joking, right?" Ginny asked in disbelief.

"Trust me, I wish I was." She groaned. "Malfoy was disturbingly forward, trying to butter me up and bribe me into it."

"On the bright side," Ginny giggled. "If you marry him, all of the tabloids are going to go crazy over your trophy husband."

"I don't think that's how it works." She rolled her eyes. "Besides, attractive or not, he's still an awful prat."

"So you think he's attractive?" Ginny delicately raised an eyebrow.

"You know what I mean!" She replied exasperatedly.

"All I'm saying is, there are worse things than marrying Malfoy." Ginny countered. "You don't really like any of the guys from here, and I just heard that Krum's family has arranged for him to marry the daughter of their family friend."

"Tell me then, what makes Malfoy better than some other random guy?"

"For starters, he's got money. Most pureblood families are no where near as well of as they were, but the Malfoys had business in the muggle world, suprisingly, and are still doing pretty well." Ginny pointed out, and as much as she loath to admit it, Hermione was starting to see her point. "And like he said, you wouldn't have to take any time off. You could keep studying, and get your degree, and have your parents back. Wouldn't that make you happy?"

"I could do that anyways." Hermione stubbornly retorted. "I can study, and maybe even apply for one of the new time-turners. I'm sure they'd let me."

"I'm sure they would, but don't you remember how stressed you were?" The red-head gently reminded her. "I'm not going to push it if you refuse to see the up sides, but there are many possible benefits. For whatever reason, no matter how twisted, he wants you, and I think that at least makes him worth considering."

"There are plenty of people who would marry me, Gin." She scoffed. "The problem is finding someone who I want to marry."

"Fine, I'll rest my case for now." Ginny sighed dramatically. "On the flip side, how are things going with your secret admirer? Did you figure out who it is yet?"

"No, I haven't figured it out yet, but I kinda don't want to know yet." She admitted.

"Why not?" Curiosity burned in Ginny's voice. Hermione could already see the gears turning in her best friend's mind, trying to figure out why on earth would she not want to know who was sending her presents.

"It takes some of the fun out of it, first off. Half the fun of a secret admirer is not knowing who they are. Secondly, what if it's someone I see and have to talk to regularly. They are obviously not ready to tell me, and I'm going to feel really awkward." She faked a flippant tone, but Ginny's glare obviously said, _"I know you're lying"._ Thankfully, Ginny decided to not call her out on it. Hermione couldn't bring herself to admit the real reason; that she was terrified that it was all a joke, or that she couldn't bring herself to like a Slytherin, no matter how nice they may be.

Ginny pouted. "Then how are you going to know that they aren't your soulmate?"

"I do want to find out more about them, though. I've sent him a letter, asking him to tell me about himself." She confessed.

"What has he said?" Ginny perked up, eagerly looking for details.

"He hasn't replied yet." She rolled her eyes. "When I get a response, you'll be the first to know."

"You better." Ginny muttered darkly. "I will never forgive you if you go to either of your other idiot friends first."

"Harry and Ron don't even know yet." She scoffed. "They'd both have a heat attack."

""They don't know about any of this?" Ginny asked incredulously.

"Not a single thing." She confirmed. "And I intend to keep it that way, until more of this makes sense."

"Well then, you better hope that Drakie-poo doesn't take it upon himself to snuggle up to you at breakfast." Ginny laughed mischievously.

* * *

The universe must have something against her. Maybe it was divine punishment for blowing off Professor Trelawney's class. Maybe she had simply run out of luck after surviving the war. Either way, the odds were _not_ in her favor.

She had just sat down to rush through her breakfast when her friends arrived. For two boys who were usually so oblivious, Harry and Ron had extraordinary perception. "Where were you last night?" Ron's eyebrows furrowed in concern. "We were looking for you, and you weren't in your room."

"Ginny and I had a girls' night." She responded dismissively, hoping they would leave the issue alone. She had no such luck.

"Since when did you start decorating with so much green?" Harry asked with suspicion.

Her mind flashed to the silky, green bamboo sheets, matching comforter, and white bed curtains, patterned with delicate emrald vines and pink roses. "They were a set, and green was the only color left." She replied.

"Why don't you just transfigured them to a different color?" Ron countered.

"Because," she scrambled for an answer. "I just got them, and they were rather expensive. I don't want to ruin the patterns or destroy the softness of the fabric."

"And I thought you didn't really like astronomy. Why'd you get a telescope?" Harry continued.

Hermione shrugged her shoulders. "I realized I had a great view from my window, and they were on sale. I guess I've just grown fond of the little things. "

"The new mirror that you've gotten is really pretty, though." Ron seemed satisfied by her previous answer and pressed on.

That was was one gift she'd rather not discuss. The body-length mirror was framed by thick swirls of silver, inlaid with iridescent chucks of dragon's breath opal-glass. The man-made gems were a breathtaking mix of dark, fiery red and electric blue. They clashed and bloomed across each other, like tiny nebulas bursting into galaxies. It was absolutely mesmerizing to stare at, but she found that if she looked into the mirror for too long, a breathy, indistinct, (but definitely male) voice would murmur, " _You are beautiful."_ She knew that there was no way for Altair and Vega to carry it by themselves; so it either must have been hand delivered, or apparated in by house elves. She wasn't sure which bothered her more.

"Family heirloom I found in our attic over the summer." She replied irritatedly.

Harry and Ron exchanged a confused look, more than likely questioning her sanity.

"Okay," Harry must have decided to drop the subject. "What about that bouquet? I guess Narcissa must like you a lot more than us if she's still sending you flowers." He tried to lighten the mood.

"Um, yeah." She replied and tried to smile, thankful for the diversion from her mysterious gifts. _If only you knew the real reason of have all those things._ She thought, guilt prickling her conscious from lying to her friends. At least the boys hadn't noticed her newly acquired owls yet. They would be a lot more difficult to explain."But what do you mean still?"

"Remember that week, about a month after the war ended, when you kept getting boxes and boxes full of orchids?" Ron answered around a mouthful of food. "Those were from her."

"Oh yeah! I'd forgotten." She smiled for real this time. Hermione couldn't believe that she'd forgotten those.

"Yeah, she's still all about the 'Golden Trio'." Harry continued. "Apparently, she's dedicated herself to repaying society by taking Lucius's place on the school board, and working for a bunch of different charities. It's funny how war changes people, isn't it?"

"Mmhm," she agreed, and snatched the copy of _The Daily Prophet_ that was laying on the table, opening to the first page. In big, bold print, the main heading read " _Squibs_?!" And below said " _As many as eight out of ten pure bloods carry the recessive gene that causes squibism. It is especially important that purebloods marry muggleborns, or half-bloods with heavy muggle heritage to reduce the risk of passing on this gene."_

She flipped the page, only to be met with another loaded headline. " _Magic: How it works"_ the article continued, dominating most of the page. _"Magic is a fluid gene. Like neurons in the brain, outside stimuli, such as practice, can alter how it functions. Different strengths and tendencies can change the epigenetics, or 'punctuation' of the magical gene. Epigenetics change how DNA is 'read' by cells, and subsequently, how it is expressed. For two individuals to be compatible, their epigenetics should be complimentary. Where one 'turns off' an aspect of the magic gene, the other should have a dominate protein that turns it back on. Those who are incompatible have epigenetics that 'turn off' most parts of the magic gene, so that it is badly expressed, or not at all, which is comparable to squibism. Studies have also shown that the magic gene is also intimately intertwined with how personality develops. Most witches and wizards tend to develop personalities that are compatible with those who have complimentary magical DNA. But, given_ _the fluid nature of both, experts are unsure if it is DNA that primarily influences personality, or the other way around. However, many scientist speculate the ancient magical community evolved this way to ensure the survival of their race."_

She sighed and flipped to the back page. Maybe there'd be a few interesting comics or small articles _. "Marriage! It gets better."_ The last title read. " _Couples who are married traditionally, with magical binding, grow more compatible! Thier epigenetics begin to mirror each other, or even reactivate 'turned off' sections in each other's genes. However, the ceremony isn't recommended for those under the age of seventeen, as their primary epigenetics haven't finished forming."_

She all but threw the newspaper back onto the table. It seemed like everywhere she looked, she was reminded of the marriage law and her failed relationship. A little further down the table, a colorful edition of _The Quibbler_ was captioned with, " _Pureblood Soulmates? And those who love others that they aren't magically compatible with. What is their fate?_

Just as she was reaching for the magazine, she saw him. Draco Malfoy was heading her way. With a ring box.

Every little voice in her mind was suddenly screaming at the top of their lungs " _Mayday! Mayday!"_

Turning back to Harry and Ron, she muttered. "I forgot. I need to go do something. See you later." With that, she abandoned her breakfast, only half eaten, and scurried from the Great Hall.

* * *

Her rejection of his stunt that morning certainly did not stop Malfoy from pulling another one this afternoon. She thanked every god that she knew of that Harry and Ron were not in her potions class. They had opted to take potions at a different hour, in favor of taking defense against the dark arts this hour. She personally felt that she had seen enough of the dark arts to last her a lifetime, but knew it was mandatory for the boys' auror prep course.

Still, with no one to deter him, the little ferret had waited until every other seat was filled before settling himself next to her.

"Why?" She quietly growled at him.

"You've been ignoring me." He chuckled throatily. "That isn't very nice, Hermione."

"I never said you could call me by my first name." She grumbled.

"You can start calling me 'Draco' to make things even." He teased, but was only met wiTh a stony frown.

"Fat chance, Malfoy." She hissed under her breath.

"Tough crowd." He shook his head. "I'd call you proper last name, but we aren't married yet, and if we're both 'Malfoy', things could get pretty confusing." Luckily, he had lowered his voice so it was only loud enough for her to hear.

"We're not getting married."

Malfoy faked a pout. "But I've already gotten a ring. Not that you'd know, seeing as you sprinted from the Great Hall as if a flock of angry hippogriffs were at your tail."

"Sod off." She warned, and resolved herself to ignore him for the rest of class.

Given the day she was having, it was needless to say that it didn't go very well. First, Malfoy found every excuse to touch her: his arm would skim her shoulder, he pointlessly reach across her workspace, and even occasionally, tuck a stray hair behind her ear.

Then, his slender and soft fingers delicately restrained her wrist. "You need to add the powdered mandrake root first." He whispered quietly, as she had been about to add the next ingredient. With some horror, she realized Malfoy was right, while he just winked in response. _Cheeky bastard._

Finally, as the class got over, he insisted on carrying her things.

"We're going to the same place." He argued. "I can handle it. They're not that heavy."

"I don't know who's been drugging you, but they need to stop. You aren't this nice." Hermione rolled her eyes as she jumped for her bag. Malfoy was using his height advantage, and dangling it far above her head. _Jerk_.

He stopped dead in his tracks. "Now I really have to carry them for you." He put the strap of her bag over his shoulder. "I can be nice." He grumbled. "Now come on, or I'll insist on holding your hand."

"You wouldn't dare." She wrinkled her nose. "Now give it to me."

"No way. Believe it or not, most Slytherins are very old fashioned and chivalrous. Plus, I need to prove my point."

Reluctantly, she followed him. It was awkward, to say the least. Malfoy tried a few times to start a conversation, but she steeled herself and committed to the silence. Luckily, other than the odd first year or ghost, no one really saw them. That was, until the rounded the corner to their wing of the castle.

At the sight of fire-red hair, she instinctively hid behind a suit of armor. However, she soon realized it was only Ginny, who had promptly burst out in hysterical laughter. "What are you even doing?" The Weasley asked, obviously referring to Malfoy. His lean frame was burdened with two bulky bags, a stack of books, and an extra cauldron. Even Hermione had to admit that he looked rather comical.

"I am proving a point." He replied stubbornly.

"What point? That you really are an ass?" Ginny continued chuckling.

"Huh?" His nose scrunched in confusion.

"A mule." Hermione whispered for him.

Understanding crossed his features, and Malfoy rolled his eyes. "No, that I can be nice. So I'm carrying Hermione's things back. "

Ginny smiled and responded, "Good luck with that."

After what felt like an eternity, they were at the dorms and he finally returned her things.

"What do you say?" He teased, leaning against the doorway.

"Leave me the hell alone?" She asked hopefully.

"I was looking for 'Thank you.'"

"Not happening." She answered, and tried to push past him.

"I'm not moving until you say it." He replied rather seriously.

"Fine, thank you." She quickly conceded.

"You're welcome." He responded, stepping aside. "Was that so hard?"

"Yes." She stepped inside and soon spotted Altair with a piece of folded parchment on her vainty. Written inside were six words. " _What would you like to know?"_

* * *

 **Yay! Finally done. Thanks again for all of the support, and be sure to let me know what you thought! :)**


	4. Chapter 4

**I'm sorry for the ungodly amount of time it's taken me to update. This was originally a 7000 word chapter, but it's currently being split into 2-3 chapters. I was almost finished with it when my computer crashed, and I lost my work. Since then, I've been too depressed/busy to do anything, and just finally got something done. I apologize for any mistakes in advance, as I barely edited it. Enjoy!**

She and Ginny sat at her vanity, crowded around a scrap of parchment.

"He's so romantic and mysterious!" Ginny gushed.

"This is serious." Hermione snapped. "What am I even going to ask? What do I want to know about him?"

"Everything." Ginny responded in a breathy whisper, smiling to herself.

"There is no way that I'm ready for all of that." She rolled her eyes. "Maybe something about his past, or what he plans to do in the future."

Ginny sighted in defeat. "I guess that works, too. I still expect to be notified immediately after you get an answer. And although this is off topic, you really should start explaining some of this to Harry and Ron. They're totally clueless, but even they'll notice something's up eventually."

"I know," she groaned. "But I don't know where to start. I just can't say 'Hey, Malfoy is dead set on annoying me for the rest of my life, and I've started drawing in snakes like an exposed field mouse.' They would either a- laugh and never let me live it down, b- go murder the little git, or c- refuse to believe me."

"You're the one who's being over dramatic now." Ginny chuckled. "I'll see you later, okay?"

"Okay." She smiled weakly at her red haired friend. As Ginny left, she allowed her head to rest against the tabletop. Harry and Ron were in no way, shape, or form ready to hear any of this. The last time she had so much as gone on a date with a guy, she was ridiculed, harassed, and accused of 'fraternizing with the enemy.' If only dancing with Viktor was such a grave offense, considering marriage to a Slytherin had to full-on treason. Ron would never forgive her, despite Ginny's assurance otherwise.

However, that did not stop her from reaching for a quill and ink. There were so many questions that burned in her mind, just as there were so many little habits and mannerisms that defined a person. What was his favorite smell? Does he like coffee or tea better? Does he like to stare out the window and watch the lightning dance across the sky when it storms? Or does he prefer to light a candle, then curl up with something warm and a book to wait out the rain? He could have a thousand different imperfections and quirks to fall in love with, that she'd never know about.

On the flip side, it would be all too easy for him to lie. The best she could do was simply have faith. So, with shaky hands, she scribbled, " _What is your ultimate goal in life? How do you like your tea/coffee? What was your favorite childhood memory? Do you have any pets? What is your favorite thing to do?"_ It was only a few of the things on her list, but if she tried to ask them all, they'd both be writing all day.

As Vega took off, her mind was free to confront another enigma: Draco Malfoy. His peculiar behavior was enough to give her a migraine. He had seemingly switched personalities overnight. He could be charming, albeit a bit roguish, and ... rather attractive, when he wanted. It was bizarre to try and reconcile the two images in hermind, and she could only ponder which of his faces was genuine.

Shoving those thoughts to the back of her mind, Hermione slowly slipped on her new grey cloak and made her way to the library. After seeing the edition of the Quibbler on the table this morning, a question had wormed its way to front of her mind; _what makes muggleborns different?_ Logically speaking, from the point of view of genetics, muggleborns should be impossible. Without the magical gene to start with, how could any part of it be activated? Maybe she could find some sort of fault with the law, and put an end to all of this madness.

Hermione bumped into someone as she rounded the corner, a too-common occurrence lately. She jolted looked up; instead of the snake she was expecting, it was the snake's mother. Honestly, she wasn't sure who was worse.

Narcissa Malfoy was wearing a long, high-necked burgundy dress, embroidered with swirls of gold thread. Her platinum blonde hair tumbled softly to her shoulders, and the Malfoy matron smiled softly.

"Hermione, my dear, are you alright?"

"Yes, I'm fine, thank you." She responded quickly, trying to edge herself away. "Are you okay, Mrs. Malfoy?"

"No need to worry yourself." Narcissa assured, while linking their arms and towing her in the opposite direction of her beloved library. "And no need to be so formal! Please, call me Narcissa."

"Okay, Narcissa." Hermione responded tentatively. "Sorry to bother you. I really should have been watching here I was going."

"Nonsense!" The older women dismissed. "It was all my fault. Let me make it up to you by inviting you to my son and I's afternoon tea"

"Oh, you shouldn't." Hermione refused politely, wishing desperately that Narcissa would give up on it already.

"I insist. I promise I won't bite." She chuckled and finally lead her into an office.

It was a beautiful room, decorated in creamy white, charcoal grey and soft pink. Much to Hermione's displeasure, she could see Malfoy lounging on a love seat, smirking in content.

"Welcome back, mother." He called lazily. "I see you've brought a guest."

"Yes!" Narcissa answered happily, while perching on a white armchair. "Go ahead Hermione, take a seat."

Rather begrudgingly, she sat in the only spot left: next to Malfoy on the just-big-enough-for-two love seat.

"Pinky will be here shortly with the tea." Narcissa continued, as if she didn't notice the tension between the pair. "It's just lovely to have all of us together, but why haven't you given her the ring yet, Draco?"

Taking advantage of her complete and utter shock, Draco pulled something out of his pocket, neatly catching her left wrist and gently sliping it onto her ring finger. "I was just having it cleaned, mum."

"But Mal- err, Draco," She choked out between gritted teeth. "I haven't agreed to anything yet, remember?"

"Draco!" His mother reprimanded with a chuckle. "You had me thinking everything was set in stone. If the girl needs to breathe a little, let her. It's only a matter of time."

"Sorry mother." Malfoy responded, his voice dripping with so much sweetness that it aught to induce diabetes on the spot. "I was just so excited that I couldn't help myself. Things have been going excellently. Haven't they, love?"

"I don't know if I'd say that..." She trailed off and gave Malfoy the best glare she could. If looks could kill, he'd be already lying in his casket.

"You're just too shy." He laughed. It was a rich, rolling sound that she was certain that she'd never heard him make before, so unlike his sarcastic chuckles and amused snorts.

Before she could defend herself, however, a small houself dressed in a frilly slip dress apparated into the room, carrying a large tray.

"Tea is ready!" She announced in a high, tinkling voice.

Still giddy as a schoolgirl, Narcissa giggled, "Excellent! What blend do we have today?"

"Red rose and hibiscus, steeped over lemon slices and diced strawberries, as requested this morning." The elf replied eagerly.

"Hmm, I must have forgotten." She mused before delicately choosing a teacup. "It's perfect as always, Pinky."

"Thank you, Mistress!" Pinky bowed. "I will return to the kitchens to finish your dinner. Enjoy!"

No sooner had the elf disappeared did Malfoy hand Hermione a cup and a strawberry jam croissant with drizzled chocolate. "Taste it." He whispered to her. "You'll like it- I promise."

Seeing no other option than to trust him, Hermione sipped the dark pink liquid and nibbled on the decadent pastry. "It's delicious." She remarked quietly, loathing to agree with Malfoy on anything, but it would be a sinful lie to say that the treat before her was anything less than splendid.

Narcissa's eyes lit up in pure delight, and she beamed. "I'm glad! You'll have to join us for dinner someday. In fact, we're having a party here in two weeks. You'll attend, won't you?"

"As long as I don't have anything I absolutely can't miss going on that day, I will." She was careful, leaving herself just enough wiggle to escape the promise, but was unable to completely reject those pleading silver eyes.

The clock on the wall chimed, and Narcissa stiffened in suprise. "Oh dear, it looks like the time has gotten away from me. I need to go back to work soon. Pinky!" She called, and the elf once again appeared, toting a beautiful silver box. "This is for you, Hermione-dear. It's a dress and some shoes for the party, if you can attend. I'm sorry to say that I have to leave, but it was a pleasure seeing you."

"Thanks for having us, mum." Malfoy replied dutifully, and the Malfoy matron pulled her son in for a hug. "Don't forget to take your medicine." He reminded her before grabbing Hermione's hand to lead her away. "We'll see you soon."

The moment they were out of the office, Hermione turned the tables; she dragged Malfoy into an abandoned classroom a little way down and locked the door. "What kind of stunt was that!" She demanded.

It only served to infuriate her further when Malfoy only shrugged his shoulders. "It wasn't any kind of a stunt. Why? Did you find my mother unpleasant?"

"You know damn well that isn't why." She groaned.

"Enlighten me then." He quirked an eyebrow and invited her to explain. "You got a gift, had a wonderful snack, and everyone involved was friendly. What seems to be the problem?"

"This!" She held out her left hand in response.

Malfoy tilted his head in confusion. "You don't like the ring? We could find a different one, if you want-"

She cut him off. "You know that isn't it either! I'm guessing that I can't take this off, otherwise you wouldn't risk me throwing it in the lake, and as a result, my friends are going to disown me."

Malfoy clucked in disappointment. "Hermione, my dear, if your friends would disown you over a matter as simple as who you fall in love with, they're not your friends at all. Besides, you can take it off." He rolled his eyes, and gently removed the ring from her finger. "You just can't get rid of it. Say, if you do throw it in the lake, it'll just reappear on your hand, but if you keep it in your pocket, you'll be fine."

"That doesn't change the fact that we're not getting married! I don't love you, and it's going to break your poor mother's heart when she finds out."

"She's not going to find out." He scoffed. "You're going to fall in love with me; a Malfoy always gets what he wants."

"You're insane." She shook her head. "That's what your problem really is. Why was Narcissa even in the castle anyways?"

"She's staying here, for the time being." He replied brusquely. However seeing her confused stare, he continued. "I don't like having her alone at the house, you see. In the old manor, she used to just randomly seize up and have panic atacks from the memories. At night, she'd hardly sleep because her dreams were haunted by nightmares." He pauses for a moment, and she's lost in him. Like _she's_ the snake and he's the charmer, his tale hypnotizing her as surly as any reed-flute. "When I bought the new mansion, it helped with the panic attacks, and the nightmares, to a degree. But then school started, and there was no way that I was leaving her to fend for herself. I wasn't going to turn her over to some quack healer either, who'd keep her sedated on dreamless sleep potions, so I arranged for her to stay in the castle while I finish my schooling. There's an adept potion maker and a skilled mediwitch nearby. She takes a quarter-strength calming draught in the morning, and a half-strength one in the evening. I'm close by, in case she has any outbursts. It keeps her safe and happy, which is good enough for me."

"What about after school?" She inexplicably found herself asking. "Won't you have to take over your family's business?"

Chuckling self-deprecatingly, Malfoy answered. "It's part of the reason I plan to marry so soon. She adores you and your friends already. Nothing would make her happier than to have Potter, Ginny, Weasel, and Weasel's family to invite over and entertain. She could even bridge the gap between her sister, and help take care of Teddy. With any luck, I could give her a grandchild to coddle. She needs people to feel whole, Hermione, and I thought that if there was one thing you understood painfully well, it's the need to do anything for the people you care about."

A solitary tear dripped down her cheek, and she steps closer to him. Leaning on her tip toes, she softly kissed his forehead and slipped out the door.

* * *

She throws the ring across the room. Just as promised, it magically reappears on her finger moments later. Even if only to herself, she can admit it's a beautiful ring. The band is delicate and silvery, probably crafted from white gold or platinum. The center stone is a huge, circular white diamond, throwing off dazzling rainbows and sparkles with the smallest hint of light. Set diagonal from each other, is one lone ruby and emerald. She snorts at the appropriateness of it.

Still in her hands is the box Narcissa gave her. She carefully opens it and inspects the clothes inside. The dress is a lovely shade of shell pink, with an illusion neckline of fine lace, a waist studded with tiny crystals and a tea length chiffon skirt. The shoes are dove grey suede, adorned with a tiny pink bow at the tip. They're beautiful, and she moans in defeat.

"Damn him..." She muttered. "Damn him for playing me right into his trap, for actually proving that his heart isn't all black." She growls. In one afternoon, everything had changed. Her own chest ached in response, acutely feeling the loss of her own parents. An envelope was on her vanity, almost surely from her secret admirer, but he could wait. "I'm definitely going have to take up Ginny's date offer this weekend to forget about tonigh." She murmured to herself, before wearily turning it in for the night.

* * *

 **Whew! At least part of it is retyped. Please leave me a little review if you liked it, and Thanks for reading! :)**


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